


Right In Front Of Me

by TheTiredOwl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Double Agents, Happy Sex, Hydra Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nice Brock Rumlow - Freeform, Non-Evil Brock Rumlow, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Or Is he?, Oral Sex, Pining, Smut, Top Brock Rumlow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22736788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTiredOwl/pseuds/TheTiredOwl
Summary: "You missed again, Rumlow," he simply says. "Again.""…"James clicks his tongue."Can I ask you something?" God, the man sounds all but disappointed and Brock knows exactly why."Sure," he tries."Please answer my question sincerely.""Uh-huh," Brock says and also knows he won’t get away with some bullshit answer."While you were on the mission, what was on your mind?""You."
Relationships: Jack Rollins & Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	Right In Front Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a [prompt](https://twitter.com/_pizzapitch_/status/1131210503554887681?s=19) on Twitter.
> 
> All my thanks to the amazing [roe87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87) for checking the spelling, my atrocious grammar and made some edits. You're awesome! <3

  
  


He once was Winter, now he’s James. Once the Winter Soldier, now a leader of Hydra. What a journey this has been…

When Winter was awake and not on a mission, he sat so long by Pierce’s side as his faithful watchdog, of course he knows how to organize at least some of America’s division of Hydra if not all of them. The Strike teams bow to him, the rest fear him. They know he’s not playing around. For too long they thought he was just a dumb tool. 

But Brock knew. 

He always saw more behind Winter’s dull eyes, the frown of unhappiness around those lush lips. He likes to think Rollins also suspected something, perhaps the whole strike team. Winter...no, James, he reminds himself. James had trained them more then ten years ago. They were practically family at that time. Through thick and thin, blood stronger than water, no one gets left behind…all that shit. But it was all true, huh?

It was an experiment of Pierce’s, the former secretary of the world security council wanted to see if the unwavering loyalty of the Winter Soldier towards Hydra, in particular Pierce himself, could extend to the strike teams, who were merely a bunch of soldiers, most of them fresh out of Afghanistan. Some were in it for the money, others found some solace in the order-through-pain credo. In a world of chaos, they strive for order. The world needs order.

And it did work. But not exactly how Pierce had hoped.

After Project Insight, they wanted to decommission him. Turns out, they didn’t need an assassin, even the best of the whole fucking world, when they had three helicarriers up the sky, ready to shoot each and every wrong thought out of the head of even the most remote hillbilly. 

But Rollins caught wind of the decommission plans and soon the whole strike team was fighting alongside Captain America, the Black Widow and some flyguy…Eagle? Or Falcon? Something like that. The helicarriers fell, but so did Pierce and Winter was gone.

A month later they would learn that he already decimated Fury and most of his Avengers, after Shield’s Director shot Pierce to death, forcing the rest of them to hide in whatever rathole they could find.

Rogers must be heartbroken, Brock thinks but couldn’t care less. Rogers didn’t spend the last ten years seeing Winter getting thrown into the cryo tank, frozen again and again. Rogers hadn’t lost him every time then. Everyone knows the tragic story of the young sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, childhood friend and right hand of Captain America. Some even suspected them to be lovers. Well, the tears on Rogers’ face had spoken a clear language as they told him of the fate of _his Bucky_. What had become of him, what he had done…

Well, at least Brock had his team by his side for comfort (something he would never admit to a living soul) as Winter had shuddered under the halo of pain and electricity. The first time they put him in the chair was also the first time they thought of rescuing that poor soul. It was the first time Winter forgot them all. The memories came back, mostly fractured, but they always did return when he was too long out of cryo. But it didn’t help them then and it didn’t help them now. There never seemed to be the right time and place for this as the years ticked by and suddenly it was too late. If James has now some sort of knowledge about his past he doesn’t show it..

By the time the chaos of the failed Project Insight had calmed down a little bit, he was there, back again. Had killed some poor Hydra executive who thought of himself as the next Alexander Pierce, assuming control of the strike and tech teams.

What followed, was a wild scramble for any sort of power but the outcome was clear. Winter, now wanting to be called James, grasped what was left of America’s division of Hydra. The other executives bowed their heads to him and the strike teams who revered the Winter Soldier follow him now around, answering to every favor he would ask of them. How much of that came from all the stories Brock and his team spread around the various colleagues and how much came from the display of raw power the Winter Soldier with his deeds held? It doesn’t matter anymore…

***

Now he’s standing before the door to James’ office. It was formerly Pierce’s in one of Hydra’s underground facilities. The world doesn’t need to know who’s in charge of Hydra now. The leaks of the Black Widow didn’t even reveal anything of the Winter Soldier at all. All the files were buried so deep...if they even existed at all. Zola would’ve had them but that freak is gone too.

Brock is expected so he doesn’t bother to knock. He just nods at the two Hydra guards who are standing watch next to the entrance and he can’t think of them as anything else as just some goons instead of his colleagues. 

He enters.

“You’re five minutes late,” James tells him cooly.

There are another two Hydra guards in the room and Jack Rollins is looking at him disapprovingly for whatever reason, standing besides James, who is sitting at his desk. His smooth hands, one flesh, one metal, are folded so he can rest his clean shaven chin on them. Brock remembers kissing the little cleft there. With his now short hair, James looks so much more like Sergeant Barnes than the Winter Soldier. It suits his new role of Hydra’s leader a bit too much for Brock’s tastes.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Brock says, shrugging.

James takes a deep breath, then nods at Rollins, who just stares at the other man. They share a look. What’s going on between them? Brock would like to know but won’t ask neither James nor Rollins. Not now…

Jack grabs some manila folder and moves towards the exit, leaving them with only the two Hydra watchmen inside. On the way he throws another look, this time at Brock. Jack Rollins is not a man of many words.

After he’s gone, James stands up, straightens up his black suit and walks around the table to lean against the edge.

"You missed again, Rumlow," he simply says. "Again."

"…"

James clicks his tongue.

"Can I ask you something?" God, the man sounds all but disappointed and Brock knows exactly why.

"Sure," he tries.

"Please answer my question sincerely."

"Uh-huh," Brock says and also knows he won’t get away with some bullshit answer.

"While you were on the mission, what was on your mind?"

"You," he blurts out. Damn, but now it’s out. "It’s you, Win-…"

Before his traitorous mouth can tell more, James shuts him down.

"Captain America is a walking target. His damned shield is a fucking target. You can’t even neutralize this easy target and you, what…come out with _this_ excuse?"

Brock thinks James must be angry, but the other man sounds remarkably calm about it.

"It’s what it is…" He tries to say like it doesn’t even matter to him. But it does. 

His heart is hammering in his chest and he has to look away from the hard stare of James’ deep blue eyes. Instead he looks at the table, at the manila folder, papers and…pictures. Pictures of the last standing Avengers: Black Widow, Captain America and even more Captain America. It seems he is studying a lot about Rogers, huh? This thought leaves a bad and ashen taste in Brock’s mouth, but he draws nearer to James.

"Out." The other man’s voice is calm als he orders the two Hydra guards to go. Then they are alone.

"Why?" James asks finally, intrigued.

Brock huffs. Maybe James remembers Rogers or at least his Captain America persona from the old days. But not him. There hasn’t been a hint of it the last months and Brock is tired of it. Tired of wanting and not getting. For whatever reason, this time he seems to be wiped of Winter’s memories for good. And as if that thought doesn’t hurt enough, Brock can’t seem to take off his eyes of Rogers’ face on all the pictures on the files. 

James reaches back with his hand to grab one of the pictures. 

"You know why he’s so fascinating?" he asks Brock, flaunting Rogers’ face before Brock's eyes. "He’s so single-minded, he could accomplish everything. This is why he is succeeding and you…"

James doesn’t say it out loud, but Brock already knows it. He is failing, failing James. And what happens, if he fails Hydra?

"What do you want, sir?" he finally says.

Still he cannot look the other man in the face. Couldn’t stand the look of disappointment in those beautiful eyes.

"Well, I never believed in that order through pain stuff," James begins, letting the picture of Rogers fall back on the desk. "Perhaps you need a purpose you can really care about, too. Just like him."

With that he raises his hands to grasp Brock by the collar of his shirt to draw the man nearer and presses his lips on his. Brock gasps in surprise and for a few seconds that drag out he just kisses back with all the want, lust and love that he feels for this man. Just pressing their mouths together, James opening up beneath him, is making him so hard right now. He just wants to take Winter into his arms, grasping this lithe but powerful body and take him right there on the desk like he dreamed of for so many years.

But Winter doesn’t remember him. 

A groan escapes him and with a gentle but firm hand he shoves James back against the table to step back a bit. 

"I…I can’t…" he chokes out and then dares to look at James’ face. 

James doesn’t look angry, just a bit sad. But also relieved, Brock thinks. He can’t take it anymore. 

"Am I dismissed, sir?" he asks with the last bit of composure he could muster up.

"Yes."

And Brock almost flees from the office.

***

It all goes to shit a few weeks later. Apparently neither Fury nor the other Avengers are dead, even Romanov shows up after they tried to hunt her down for so long. Base after base falls, Hydra takes her last breaths only to be defeated in the face of Captain America's righteous wrath. 

Brock should’ve seen it from the start. After Rollins drops him off in some remote safe house, a small cabin in the mountains, he questions daily if he overlooked the signs.

"You knew, didn’t you?" he asks Jack while he heats up some beans from a can virtually expired.

"What can I say, I’m a trusted man." Rollins shrugs but a rare smile is showing on his rugged and scarred face.

"Ah, the man with few words." Brock is shaking his head.

"You bitter about that?"

"No." He means that. "But..."

"His memories were wonky," Rollins says. "Even his own name was just a fragment of his shaky recollections and after he saw the memorial at the Smithsonian…" Rollins shrugs again and reaches for a portion of the meager meal without Brock having offered.

They had been at the memorial with Rogers, a few weeks after they’d thawed him out of the Arctic. It was a shock to them all, Brock and the rest of the strike team, at seeing Winter’s face on the walls. What a bitter irony Winter’s fate was…

"So he didn’t trust me." Brock doesn’t want to sound bitter, but seeing Jack averting his eyes and shrugging again proves otherwise.

Rollins is stuffing the beans in his mouth for a little while before he answers.

"Don’t take it so hard, Brock. The times were and are difficult right now. You’ll get over it."

He’s right of course, but still… The thought that Winter, after all their time together, didn’t confide in him, makes his heart clench in his chest.

They eat in silence and after that, Rollins dismisses himself. A few minutes after he left, Winter is standing in the entrance, looking tired with heavy bags under his eyes, but surprisingly good outside of his black suit and in everyday clothes.

"Hey," Winter says.

"Hey."

"Can I come in?"

"’course you can. There is nothing that could prevent you from it." This isn’t exactly what Brock means and Winter knows it.

"What should I even call you, huh?" Brock asks.

There is a moment of silence. Winter closes the door behind him, hangs up his thick jacket, which looks soaked from the rain outside, and crosses the room to stand before Brock. 

“I missed you…” Winter begins, ignoring Brock‘s question. “But it was safer this way. At least for now.”

“You played your role really well. Didn’t think you would remember…” Brock doesn’t want to be pissed about that but he can feel the anger working his way up.

“Not everything.” The answer comes fast. “There were fragments and…”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts the other man. “It’s okay now. You’re here.”

For now.

“You want somethin’? I have beans and…” Brock looks around and points in the general direction of the kitchen shelves. “... well, beans it is. Couldn’t it at least be the Four Seasons?”

"Maybe next time." Winter tilts his head and shows a crooked smile as he‘s inspecting the small cabin. “It’s something.”

Better than nothing, but Brock is dying of boredom here in this meager stocked safe house and the whole area of nothing but trees and stones. The bad weather of an exceptionally cold and wet November doesn’t make it better.

“There are still cells of Hydra that have to be destroyed. You can help now…if you want to.” Winter’s question comes quietly as if he wasn’t sure how Brock would respond.

“Maybe we should first begin from the start.” Brock decides after a few seconds and holds out his hand for Winter to grasp. “I’m Brock Rumlow. Currently unemployed but looking out for some second chances.”

“I’m James. James Barnes.” His flesh and blood hand feels so warm between Brock’s fingers. “They call me Bucky, but I was Winter for a long time, so … it’s okay if you want to call me that…”

"James then..."

They share a small smile and for the first time in months Brock feels some hope.

***

The next time they see each other, Rogers is there too, clad in his costume. It’s also a bit startling to see James in his tac gear with all those straps, the metal arm with the red star on full display. But Brock is nonetheless happy to see him. Not Rogers though, who watches the ex-Strike leader like a hawk and with a prominent scowl on his handsome face. 

_"But why Rollins? He really knew everything?"_

_"Not everything. Also, he’s a man of few words and frankly, Brock … you can be read like a book,." James said, gently teasing._

Together they head out for a quinjet that’s waiting for them a few miles from the safe house. Carter is there, along with Barton and Romanov: all three of them watching him and Rollins, who’s sitting beside him in the quinjet, with suspicion in their eyes. But soon Barton is chatting as loud and obnoxious as always with Rogers and Carter, as the Widow engage in a quiet conversation with James in Russian which Brock understands only rudimentary. 

He isn’t fooled though, he knows enough of Romanov to anticipate her keeping her eyes on him even if it doesn’t seem that way. At least twice Romanov is shaking her head and casting a glance in Brock’s direction with James keeping his pale face a blank slate, but Brock thinks he saw a slight smile on his lips before it disappears quickly.

***

It was just a small cell but eliminating the headquarters of it was…

"… quite a cathartic experience, huh?" James tells him later with a happy smile on his face as they run along the small path through the woods towards the quinjet, various explosions behind them.

Brock laughs, surprised at himself. Perhaps it’s not the fighting itself against the organization that consumed his life and mind for the last twenty years … but fighting alongside James again, that lets him breathe freely.

Hydra was a purpose once in his chaotic life and the order came through oh so much pain. He doesn’t know when it became apparent that all that pain of seeing Winter getting wiped and frozen had dulled him so much to everything else that he was nothing more than a drone for Hydra. But seeing them destroyed breaks something free in his chest. 

James told him at the safe house that organizing the destruction of Hydra from within was maybe not his best plan, but a plan he could follow through as he slowly gained more and more of his memories. Rogers found him with his flying friend two weeks after the Project Insight disaster. It had taken months until James could trust them enough to tell them of his plans but neither Rogers nor Fury were particularly happy about them. Especially after he asked for amnesty for Strike team alpha, the one he trained, the one which was family … Brock, Rollins and all the others… 

_"And this game with me?" Brock had asked finally._

_"I … was not sure." James admitted. "After the fall of the helicarriers, you could’ve just left Hydra like so many others. Gone hiding or something. But you stayed. I didn’t know why."_

_At first, Brock didn’t know what to say. It took a while before he found his words._

_"I stayed for you. Not at first," he said slowly. "I didn’t know where to go… and then suddenly you were back. I stayed for you."_

_James was smiling then. "Yeah, I figured it out. Took me a while, but then your poker face isn’t the best and I had to be believable."_

Yeah, it felt good to storm the base of the cell, planting the explosives with James to burn down everything. Rogers and the others are now leading the last of the survivors to the quinjet. Whatever will await them, it won’t be pretty, with the government tired at having been played by Alexander Pierce and his cohorts. The prisons are full of Hydra goons now: politicians, military, everyday men, and more are coming.

But why should it have been so easy for Brock to get away with more than ten years of crimes in the name of Hydra? He didn’t save the world from chaos, he didn’t save anyone, not even Winter who saved himself with arguably some help from Rogers. 

But he did so many bad things, didn’t even flee Hydra when he had the chance at the destruction of the helicarriers. It shouldn’t count, that he actually believed that Hydra shit and thought it could make the world a better place. 

"You’re not cruel," James guesses his thoughts as Brock has to take a breath and a pause from running. Damn, he’s getting old. James is leaning against a tree and watches Brock with soft blue eyes. 

"The things I did, …" Brock begins, still out of breath, but is shot down quickly.

"Okay, you know what you did. And I think you’re not a bad man at heart."

Brock stares at him but before he can retort something, they get interrupted by Rogers’ voice, tinny through the comms.

_"Are you coming or what? We’re almost ready to leave."_

"Alright." James answers him smiling. "We’re coming. Not everyone has the serum, Stevie." 

He sounds so fond, using this nickname and Brock’s heart clenches in his chest.

_"Okay, Bucky."_ Rogers laughs, apparently in a good mood after the successful mission. _"You need five more minutes, Rumlow?"_ That sounds already a bit colder.

"Yeah, yeah… I get it. I’m hurrying up," Brock says through the comms and then sighs. "Let’s go, James." 

They can talk another time.

***

"What are you gonna do after all of this?"

They’re back at the cabin. Brock still has some stuff of his (for one, his favorite knife which he forgot under the shitty mattress) to gather before he would leave the safe house for whatever place they want to put him next. After Rogers and the others went back to their headquarters, James had asked them to give them a night or two with some supplies and is now standing at the stove, scrambling eggs and roasting some bacon. Breakfast for dinner, huh? Brock hasn’t it in him to complain and for once it smells delicious in the cabin.

"Huh?" James answers a bit distracted by the sizzling bacon.

"What are you gonna do after Hydra is destroyed for once and all?" Brock asks again, folding a shirt only to throw it unceremoniously into his duffel bag. 

"Well, you know what they say, _cut off one head,_ " James begins, but Brock is cutting him off impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." But that wasn’t the question he wanted to ask.

"Well, they said they could use my help. Steve wants to--"

"Okay, about Rogers…" Brock holds up his hand and interrupts him again. The well-known feeling of this particular old anger is welling up inside him. It’s jealousy, he discovers with almost a sense of wonder. He takes a deep breath. "You want to go back to him, do you? I get it. Really. Tragic love story, torn apart for decades and now you’re back together and kicking. That’s great, really… it’s great…" He trails off.

James turns off the stove and sets the pan aside to turn to him. After a short moment he sets himself in motion, crossing the room to stand before Brock by the shitty bed where all his stuff is now laying on that didn’t make it into his duffel by the time.

"I love Steve. He’s my friend. Yes, we were lovers sometimes in the past, but first and foremost we were friends. It was a different time then and it is different now, too. I want him back as my friend. But I don’t want him as my lover now. By the way, have you seen the way Sharon Carter stares at him?" James is smiling, not even a trace of unhappiness in his blue eyes. Yes, Brock has noticed how Rogers and Carter danced around each other in the quinjet and in the mission with awkward flirting. But he couldn’t see that going anywhere. 

"Huh…" is all he can say about James’s short speech.

"Well, I’m amazed that you could retain yourself long enough to let me speak out," James teases and proceeds to sit down next to Brock on the squeaky mattress.

"Glad, I could surprise you just this once," he says and takes James's warm hand in his own. "You sure about Rogers?"

James nods and simply kisses him and with that, all those feelings of want and lust are back there again. They never shared more than kisses and when he considered taking Winter into his bed, it was before he knew what they were doing to him. After the first time they wiped the Winter Soldier before his eyes, the burning need to fuck him was blasted out of Brock’s mind. It came up many times and sometimes he couldn’t help himself thinking of it, when Winter’s true personality shone through the blank slate Pierce liked to keep him in. The few kisses they shared were painful reminders of what he could have had but will never get. Until now.

Brock snakes an arm around James’s waist to draw him close and kisses him again, this time deeper. James sighs into his mouth.

"I wanted this for so long. Ever since my memories came back, I longed for you," Jaime whispers heatedly when their lips part. "And that day in the office... I wanted you to fuck me so hard. I nearly couldn’t think straight…"

"Me too." 

"But when you refused me … I knew you loved me even then."

And Brock loves him now. The thought, that James could’ve taken advantage of him, still lies a bit heavy in his stomach but with another kiss he chases this feeling away. Again James opens up beneath him so easily, letting him slip his tongue inside with a deep groan.

He lets his fingertips slip under James's dark shirt, dancing above the strong muscles of his abdomen and gets rewarded with another moan that he swallows up. 

“I missed you so much, Jamie…” he whispers as their lips break apart and he gets rid of his own shirt before he nearly rips off James’s. 

His things get thrown off the bed as he lays his sweet, now pliant James down on the bed. All this soft, warm skin hiding strong muscles, even the angry scars around his metal shoulder are so beautiful to him, he can’t believe that he’s really getting to own him in this way now. No, not owning him … revering him.

Yes, he loves him, in body and mind. His teasing smiles, his vulnerability, when he shows it even now as Brock is biting softly at his jaw and lets his kisses wander down his neck. His hands worship for a few seconds the rough looking but surprisingly soft scars where metal meets skin. For a short moment Brock fears that James would mind but he gets nothing than quiet, pleased moans and soft breaths.

"It’s okay … it’s okay now," James tells him, opening his big blue eyes full of want and lets his hand wander through Brock's hair to pull him back to his lips for a kiss, slow and tender.

But the burning need to explore James’s body doesn’t want to get ignored anymore. His pants long since unbearably tight have to go, too. James is wriggling himself into a sitting position, his fingers already at the buttons of Brock’s pants. 

"Let me…I waited so long for this," he pleads as he opens the first button and Brock indulges him. The tac pants go easily under James's hands and now he’s stroking Brock’s erection through his shorts for a little while. Apparently he’s getting impatient too as he’s nudging Brock gentle but firm. With a fluid move he shifts between Brock’s legs and frees his hard, already leaking cock from his shorts. 

A low growl escapes Brock’s throat as James tastes a drop of precum with the tip of his tongue, glancing up to him with twinkling eyes and a smile on his plush lips. And then he swallows him down in one move. He picks up a maddeningly slow rhythm, sometimes just suckling at the tip and then swallowing down to the root. Brock lets his fingers stroke through James’s soft brown hair and clenches the short strands lightly to keep himself together from just thrusting up and fucking his hot, wet mouth. He’s already nearing his release. 

"Wait…" he gasps and James pulls off with a smile.

"I know." He grins. "I want you to come inside me."

What can Brock say to these sweet words? That he doesn’t deserve him? That would be an issue for a later time. Now he just wants him. With a groan he seizes his James and throws him back, ripping his pants and shorts off with the next move. The tip of James’s hard length is leaking glistening pearls of precum which Brock’s fingertips gather up and smear them over the long, slender cock.

"Wait…" he says again and with some regret breaks away from James to fumble around the bedside. 

"I see you come prepared, huh?" James laughs so sweetly that Brock has to grin as he waves a small tube of lube. 

"Well, there’s nothing else to do here besides jackin’ off and waiting for something to happen." He shrugs as coats his fingers with the slick and then dipping them low to James’s ass.

He lets his fingertips circle the hole, rubbing the lube around before he’s thrusting at first one and then two fingers inside. James moans, clenching around them and then loosening up slowly, encouraging Brock to thrust them deeper, searching for that sweet spot inside him. 

As he thoroughly prepares him, James’s moans are becoming more and more intense, his cock leaking steady precum on his belly, signaling he’s almost ready to come by now. 

"Ah, not yet…" Brock murmurs, thrusting in a third finger before pulling them all out and grabbing the lube again. 

He coats his aching cock generously with slick and finally, finally enters his lover’s body with a slow push. They both groan together and Brock’s thrusting into him agonizingly slowly, with James holding him firmly, his pale cheeks heating up, whispering sweet nothings.

They move lazily together for a few moments before Brock cannot wait any longer and takes up speed, fucking him through the mattress which squeaks with every hard thrust.

"Brock…!"

James is coming apart under him, he trembles and moans, his legs around Brock’s waist are shaking so hard and then he comes. With the hot splattering of his release between their bodies, Brock is chasing his release, pushing harder, thrusting faster and then _finally_ he comes undone, filling his sweet James with his hot seed.

***

Afterwards he has James lying sated in his arms with a ratty blanket thrown over them both, just catching their breath, before Brock with some regret leaves him to gather up a small cloth, to clean them both. He can’t resist lovingly stroking with almost trembling fingers James’s slightly swollen, used hole, pushing the last traces of cum inside him again with fascination. He had claimed him, James was his: his sweet lover, who is smiling quietly up at him.

Eventually they get up to clean themselves properly and finally eat their meal. They chat about this and that, without the issue of Rogers coming up again, which at this time doesn’t even matter anyway. 

"And do you know now what you’re gonna do?" James asks, chewing on crispy bacon.

"Fucking you again in an hour or so?" Brock answers with a wolfish grin.

"An hour?"

"Hey, I’m not as young as I used to be. Leave an old man alone, will ya?"

James rolls his eyes but laughs and then bites his bottom lip suggestively. 

"Just get us out of this shithole and then we’ll see." Which means Brock’s undecided. 

He finishes his eggs and watches James wolfing down the last of his meal. It will be okay he thinks. Maybe it will be difficult to adjust to a somewhat normal life and he still doesn’t think that he deserves a normal life. But with James at his side, things are looking good.

Tomorrow will be a new day.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Please leave a kudos and a comment if you liked it!


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